My Diagnosis
by iluvdimples314
Summary: Re-post due to radical revision. "Laverne's voice softened. 'Dr. Dorian is in room 314, sweetie. Hematemesis.'" No slash, just warm n' fuzzy JDox hurt/comfort. AU early season 2. Cookies and cyberhugs will be offered in exchange for reviews...
1. His Newbie

**Hello, friends. I know it's been weeks, if not months, since there has been any alteration to this story, so first, I apologize. For anyone who has stumbled upon this page for a second time, you might notice the changes that I've made. Smudge the rat gave me some constructive critisism, and I'm finally getting around to revising this story. So please read, review, and spread the word.**

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"Hold on, Dr. Dorian. I think I found it," whimpered the frightened intern. He was a little rusty at drawing blood, and he grimaced in fear as Dr. Cox glared at him with his crazy eyes.

JD and his hot-headed mentor were in Dr. Kim's office, but the normal physician was attending a seminar on inappropriate examination rituals. The young resident groaned, and Dr. Cox took an involuntary step towards him. JD glanced over, eyes drawn by the sudden movement, and half-grinned.

But his smile soon faded as Brainless Intern thrust the needle into his forearm like a pop-up timer into a Thanksgiving turkey.

Perry could stand this abuse no longer. He advanced further towards the examining table, snatching the withdrawn needle from the hands of Brainless Intern. "I would advise you go stand over there," he whisper-shouted at him, motioning to the far corner of the room with his head, "or I may be forced to position this needle in any number of unpleasant places on or inside of your being."

The offending doctor shrunk away, his proverbial tail between his legs.

Meanwhile, Dr. Cox effortlessly filled the syringe with crimson liquid on the first try. He grinned at JD and held up his masterpiece. "Tada." Perry handed the needle to Brainless Intern, who half-walked-half-ran out the door, most likely to the lab but possibly to the lap of his mother.

"Thanks, Perry. I owe you one."

"The hell you do. I just couldn't stand sitting there and watching that mindless chimp torture you like that." Perry wrapped sterile gauze around the wound and secured it with medical tape. He hesitated for a moment before hopping up onto the examining table beside his protégé. Dr. Cox glanced over and performed a whiplash-worthy double-take.

JD's face shifted rapidly from pale peach to olive green and then to a ghostly ivory. He whimpered before closing his eyes and collapsing to the cold linoleum floor, faster than Perry's arms could reach out to catch him.

"Aw, shit, Newbie." Dr. Cox jumped off the counter and kneeled next to JD, grabbing his wrist. He sighed in relief as he detected the gentle pulsing under the skin. "Thank god," he whispered. Perry collected himself and began slapping JD's cheeks lightly. "Rise and shine, Marybeth."

His protégé didn't stir, except for the slight movement of his head in the same direction as Perry's hand when it struck his face.

"Shit." Dr. Cox sighed heavily and hoisted JD's limp frame into his arms, easily lifting him back up to the examining table. He pulled a maroon-upholstered chair flush against the counter and eased into it, resting an arm on the table. Perry's breathing synchronized with the gentle rise and fall of his Newbie's chest.

The two doctors remained there for two or three hours, and Perry felt his own body sagging in fatigue. Before Dr. Cox knew it, his curl-topped head was resting on his arm, and he drifted off to sleep.

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**So, what do you think?  
****Replies, cyberhugs, and virtual cookies will be exchanged for reviews.**

**~JD**


	2. My Hug

**Greetings, earthlings. Chapter 2 alterations are finally complete. Please review, and tell your friends.**

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Dr. Percival Cox woke up to the sound of JD's groans.

"Perry?"

Dr. Cox sat straight up, blinking rapidly. He did not remember falling asleep here. But he immediately realized there were more pressing issues to tend to. JD's face was shifting to an alarming shade of white that Perry recognized all too easily. He abruptly stood up and leaned over his protégé. "You feel dizzy, Newbie?" the older doctor inquired, concern flooding his tired eyes.

"Not so much… dizzy… more… nauseous." JD whispered, clutching his abdomen.

"Oh, shit." Perry lifted JD into his arms and hurried across the hall to the bathroom, ignoring the curious stares of passing hospital employees. He gingerly placed JD in a kneeling position in front of the toilet and sat down beside him.

JD's back arched and he retched violently, his head dipping out of visibility. His body convulsed and he gripped the rim with quaking fingers.

The older doctor's eyebrows furrowed together, and he clasped a strong hand around JD's shoulder, squeezing gently. He waited patiently until his companion let go of the toilet bowl and slumped onto the floor, shivering and moaning.

Perry's Adam's apple bobbed visibly in his throat as he gazed down at JD. He ran his left hand through his hair before leaning over to lift the young doctor into his arms.

JD rested his chin in the crook of Perry's neck and wrapped his arms around his mentor's muscular torso.

The two men remained on the floor until JD's tremors ceased. Perry gently rocked his Newbie back and forth, reminded of the countless nights he had spent with his restless baby son. And the brunette in his arms smiled contentedly through stomach pains as his dream of nearly two years was fulfilled; JD got his hug.

"You want some water?" Perry inquired, pulling away from the embrace.

"That'd be great." JD slowly climbed onto the floor and propped himself up on his elbows, still to weak to sit up unsupported.

Dr. Cox got to his feet and started towards the chipped porcelain sink. But one glance down into the toilet bowl stopped him in his tracks.

Scarlet liquid.

Blood.

His Newbie was vomiting blood.

Perry swore under his breath and suddenly bent down to scoop JD into his arms once again, pulling his protégé's frail being close to his chest as he scampered into the hallway. Darting past giggling nurses and supply carts, Dr. Cox spotted an empty room in the ICU. He pushed the door open and shifted JD's position in his arms so he could turn down the pastel cotton bed sheets.

At this point, JD's curiosity was climbing. "Dr. Cox, what are we doing here?"

Sighing heavily, Perry lowered his passenger onto the mattress. He pulled up the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed. Only one word escaped his lips. "Hematemesis."

JD's sagging blue eyes widened as he processed this information. Through squinting eyelids, he had assumed that the red pigment was the ketchup that he used to drown his scrambled eggs that morning. But hematemesis meant he was vomiting blood. Vomiting blood meant serious problems with his GI tract. And serious problems meant…

He took a deep breath and halted his train of thought. Rest now, worry later.

Perry remained on the bed for a moment. He looked down at his Newbie with eyes empty of hatred and annoyance. And he abruptly stood up, startled by his own emotions. "I'll page the reception desk, send a nurse up here with the paperwork," he informed the younger doctor.

Nodding sleepily, JD leaned back into the pillows. And despite his dismal situation, a smile crept onto his face as he looked up at his mentor's profile.

Unaware of JD's gaze, Perry ran his fingers through his hair and turned towards his protégé. "I have… patients, Newbie. I'll be back as soon as I can."

JD nodded and watched Dr. Cox grasp the door handle. "Hey, Perry?"

The older doctor peered over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Perry half-grinned. "Don't sweat it, Audrey." He stepped out of the room and walked purposefully down the hallway, white lab coat flailing behind him.

Relaxing into his pillows, JD inhaled deeply. Every ounce of optimism had vanished along with his mentor, every bit of energy gone. All he could do now was close his eyes, burrow deeper into his bed covers, and try to block _that word_ from his mind. At least for now.

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**If you click the green button below, something magical will happen-**

**Someone somewhere will smile.**

**~JD**


	3. Their Patient

**Okay, friends. I basically re-wrote this entire chapter, so I hope it's better than before. And I hope you're as glad as I am that I'm finally getting somewhere with this story. It should finally be complete by the end of March. So thanks to everyone who reviewed the old story, or subscribed to Story or Author Alerts. **

***

Shortly after JD drifted off to sleep, Carla Espinosa snatched the screaming receiver off its base and crushed it between her right shoulder and her ear. "Admission desk," she deadpanned.

"Hi, sweetie. Will you do me a favor?"

Both correspondents recognized the other's voice, so there was no need for verbal identification. Carla let the forced smile slip off her face and slumped in her chair. "Laverne, it's a zoo down here. Can't it wait?" She heard a deep intake of breath on the line.

"Honey, it's Dr. Dorian."

Scribbling her signature on a delivery slip, Carla switched the receiver to her left ear. "Well, tell him I'm busy. Fourteen new admissions since this morning." She tapped her fingers rapidly on the counter-top.

"Fifteen."

"What?" Carla's eyebrows furrowed together, and she grabbed the computer mouse. "My record says fourteen." She began to scroll down the list of new patients.

Laverne's voice softened. "Dr. Dorian is in room 314, sweetie. Hematemesis."

Carla's fingers froze in their position on the keyboard. Her lips parted in a silent gasp for air as compulsive tears sprung to her eyes.

"Carla?"

"I'll be right there." Carla returned the receiver to its cradle with shaking fingers, leaped out of her chair, and gripped the pink stethoscope slung around her neck as she jogged through the hallway to the elevator.

***

Meanwhile, in Room 314, JD was snoring softly, plagued with unsettling dreams. He was now set up with intravenous nutrition, a pitcher of water, a clean washcloth, and a rectangular plastic bucket, which all rested on a tray at the foot of his bed.

Dr. Cox had dumped all of his patients on Elliot and returned to his protégé's side. He was now leaning against the spattered bay window with his legs spread, his freckled hands resting on the back of his head. Default position for times like this.

Just then, the giant metal door burst open to reveal a petite Latina nurse with rumpled purple scrubs. She wordlessly strode over to JD's side, impulsively placing a hand across his forehead. "Bambi?"

JD stirred and stretched, slightly puzzled by his surroundings. He recognized the familiar face in his field of vision and smiled. "Hi, Carla."

The raspy sound of his voice, though it may have been caused by grogginess, caused a concerned wrinkle appear on her forehead. "Are you okay, honey?" Her maternal instincts were flooding her brain, making rational thought impossible.

JD shrugged and dismissed the inquiry, not wanting to upset his friend. He reached out to grasp Carla's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm fine." But the pulsing pain in his stomach defied his words. He repositioned himself and tried to ignore it.

Dr. Cox solemnly ambled over and stood behind Carla, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed as he silently analyzed the expression on JD's face. "What is it, Newbie?"

Grimacing slightly, JD answered stoically. "Nothing. Minor stomach pain. No problem." He massaged his belly with his fist to no avail. It wasn't going away. Intensifying, if anything.

Perry raised his index fingers to his temples. He'd never been one for superstition, but he seemed to get a thundering headache whenever a patient was about to take a turn for the worse. And his head was pounding. "Carla, can you go get a bag of Demerol, please?" He grabbed a prescription pad from his coat pocket and scribbled down the order, handing it the nurse beside him.

JD looked up, shaking his head. "No, I don't need pain meds. Indigestion," he lied, but pain shot through his abdomen and the twitch of his muscles gave him away.

Carla glanced over at Dr. Cox, who nodded his head ever-so-slightly. She let go of JD's hand and brushed his cheek gingerly with her fingers. "Hold on, Bambi," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

Eyelids drooping, Perry watched her sprint through the threshold and into the hallway, her ebony ponytail swinging frantically. He sat down on the edge of JD's bed. "Just hang on, Newbie."

A nauseous grimace plastered across his face, JD nodded. He was now using both hands to massage his abdomen, but the pain continued to grow exponentially. He groaned quietly.

"JD? Are you okay?"

Unable to respond, JD grabbed for the plastic bucket at his bedside and tucked it under his chin as maroon blood bubbled up from his stomach.

"Whoa, hey. Sit up," Perry ordered, taking the bucket from his protégé's shaking grasp. He waited for JD to swing his legs over the side of the bed, hunched over and quivering. Dr. Cox watched, winced, and held the bucket as JD coughed up several mouthfuls of blood.

After a couple of dry heaves, JD moaned inwardly and pushed away the bucket. He swayed slightly and closed his eyes.

Perry placed the bucket on the bedside table, then turned his attention towards the man beside him. "You okay, Newbie?" he inquired, wrapping an arm around JD to steady him.

JD nodded and rested his head on his mentor's shoulder. "Yeah," was all he could muster. The nausea was fading, but the concentrated pain in his stomach refused to let up.

At this moment, God bless her heart, Carla re-entered with an oblong bag of clear liquid in tow. She rushed over and hung the bag on the metal stand below the nutrition drip. "JD? Can I see your arm, please?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Perry's uncharacteristically affectionate gesture.

JD thought for a moment, then pushed up his right sleeve.

Keeping an eye on the younger doctor, Perry removed his arm and stood up, helping JD settle back into bed. His head was still pounding, but he knew there were more important things to worry about.

Carla expertly inserted the IV and secured it with medical tape. "It'll take a few minutes to kick in," she told JD absentmindedly.

JD chuckled. "I'm a doctor, Carla. I know how Demerol works."

Carla stared down at JD for a moment before shaking her head. "Of course you do." She ran a hand through his hair with a far-away look in her chocolate-brown eyes. "I… I have to go," Carla mumbled, her voice cracking on the last word.

Smiling weakly, JD nodded. "Thanks, Carla."

Carla wordlessly turned on her heels and began to walk briskly out of the room. But Dr. Cox caught her shoulder mid-stride. She looked up into his freckled face with tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

Neither one spoke as Perry enveloped Carla in his muscular arms. Neither one of them was quite sure who was comforting whom. And neither one of them wanted to break the embrace.

Carla buried her face in his chest, and she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head. She ran her manicured hands up and down his broad shoulder blades, breathing deeply. And they remained in this position until Carla's pager vibrated angrily on her waistband, sending an unsettling shock wave spindling through both of their bodies.

Grabbing the offending device, Carla scanned the message. "I gotta go," she whispered.

Perry nodded silently and brushed the tears from her cheeks. His eyes remained dry.

***

**I know life is short, but you'll make mine full of joy if you take 60 seconds to review. I'll respond. Pinkie swear.**

**~JD**


	4. His Reckless Abandonment

**So, what do you guys think so far? Are these countless hours of revision worth the trouble? I certainly hope so. Because the letter labels on my keyboard are disappearing from extensive use.**

**Okay, without further ado, Chapter 4 of 15. (Almost 1/3 of the way to the end of this two-year project.) Peachy.**

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Dr. Cox stood there for several minutes with his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His mind was spinning with so many thoughts that he was unable to sort through them and come up with anything coherent. All he could do was blink, breathe, and wonder why he felt so breakable at this moment.

JD eventually decided to break the silence. "Perry? You okay?" His voice dripped with concern.

"Never been better," Dr. Cox responded robotically, turning slowly around to look down at his protégé. He walked over and snatched the fluffy white washcloth from the tray. "Come 'ere, you look like a Dr. Acula," he chided.

JD's eyes lit up at this comment. "You read my screenplay?" he queried through smiling pink lips.

"Yes. Yes, I did. And I was able to suppress the resulting suicidal impulses," Perry retorted, wiping the dried blood from JD's chin. Old habits die hard, and berating the younger doctor had long ago been cemented in his daily routine.

Rolling his eyes, JD blew air through partially closed lips. "Cut it out, that tastes awful," he protested.

Perry persisted, wiping JD's upper lip clean. "Clam up, Newbie," he grumbled playfully.

JD chuckled and grabbed the washcloth. "This rag tastes like potato skins in a dishwater marinade," he insisted. And he had shoved the washcloth between Perry's lips before the older doctor could even blink.

Dr. Cox sat there for a moment, utterly shocked by this uncharacteristically bold gesture, before the revolting taste of generic laundry detergent seeped into his tongue. He yanked the washcloth out of his mouth and tossed it over his shoulder without a second thought.

_Splat._

Dr. Zeltzer had been strolling past the door, fantasizing about prostitutes and Cheese Whiz, when a rogue washcloth filled his field of vision. He peeled the dripping square of fabric from his face, cursed under his breath, and returned to his daydream.

JD and Perry simultaneously burst into hysterics. They both had tears of laughter pooling in their eyes when JD regained the ability to speak. "What are the odds?" he chuckled rhetorically.

JD wiped the moisture from his cheeks and cleared his throat. "Hey, Dr. Cox."

"What, Newbie?"

"I need to talk to you."

Perry glanced over at the younger doctor. The smile had faded from his face. "About what?"

"About... this. And me. And if things go wrong-"

Dr. Cox spontaneously sprung to his feet. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go dig up those test results of yours." He glanced back briefly. "You okay on your own?"

Every cell in JD's body protested as he nodded his head.

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Meanwhile, Dr. Elliot Reid was standing beside the threshold of the laboratory, biting her fingernails frantically. Her newest patient, a seventeen-year-old girl named Louisa Dalton, was complaining of vomiting, abdominal pains, and swelling of the ankles and feet. Normally, Elliot would have handed her over to obstetrics and gynecology without a second thought, but Louisa's parents made her nervous. Strict Christians, and thus strict believers in abstinence. It wasn't going to bode well for Louisa if she was pregnant.

At that moment, Dr. Cox stormed through the doorway. Elliot could have sworn he had tears glistening in his eyes; maybe it was a trick of the light. He slammed the door behind him, and Elliot counted to ten before pressing her ear against it.

"Listen up, Buddy. You are going to find John Dorian's test results before I can recite the alphabet." His voice dropped to a menacing growl. "Failure to do so will result in the instantaneous insertion of your head into that beaker." He motioned to a glass jar perched on a shelf that was six sizes too small to contain a human head comfortably. But Perry hadn't said anything about comfort.

A panic-stricken Franklin scrambled to his file cabinet as Dr. Cox somberly sang the alphabet song. At "E,F,G," Franklin had located the correct drawer. It took him until "L,M,N,O,P," to find the D section. And Dr. Cox was closing in on "T,U,V" when Franklin extracted the file labeled "Dorian, John".

"Found it!" he exclaimed, a pre-adolescent voice crack interrupting his words.

Dr. Cox stretched his upper lip over his teeth and snatched the folder from the lab tech's fingers. "W,X,Y,Z," he whispered menacingly, and Franklin sprinted out of the lab with a look of genuine terror on his face.

Chuckling softly, Perry directed his attention to the folder in his hands. He leaned against the counter top and opened the file.

It wasn't difficult to locate the word _Positive_ printed in bright green ink.

Dr. Cox let the chart slip between his fingers and wordlessly walked out the door.

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**Previous offers of cyberhugs and virtual cookies still apply if you give in to my shameless review-whoring. **

**~JD**


	5. My Diagnosis

****

So, my dear friends, I have re-surfaced once again. I have finally regained my muse for this story, and I hope to keep cranking out chapters semi-regularly from now on. So thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or alerted. You are all ridonkulously fabulous.

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Dr. Cox sat alone in the on-call room, staring down at his intertwined fingers. The image of John Dorian's chart had been burned viciously onto his mind's eye.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

He wanted desperately to sprint back to the laboratory, snatch the offending page off the tile floor, and rip it into atoms. Those words crept down his throat and entered his heart, tugging malevolently on his arteries.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

Perry wasn't sure what happened after he left the lab. Perhaps he had passed out in the hallway, or punched an orderly in the nose, or maybe curled up in a corner and cried himself into oblivion. Perhaps he had done all three. But Dr. Cox had no memory of those few desolate moments.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

He morosely analyzed this illogical diagnosis. Hepatitis B was transferred only by bodily fluids. As Perry had learned from years as a hospital attending, this usually meant one of three things:

1) Person A injected himself with an illegal substance then passed the needle to Person B,

2) Person A got freaky-deaky with Person B, or

3) Person A gave birth to Person B.

Dr. Cox knew enough about his "Person B" to rule out all three of these possibilities. No doctor in his right mind would get high and come to work. Then again, Perry wasn't honestly sure if JD was, in fact, in his right mind. But it seemed unlikely nonetheless. The doe-eyed resident also habitually bragged to his mentor about any and all sexual encounters, in his own innuendo-ridden way, but no such annoyances had taken place lately. Or at least none that Perry had listened to. And the third possibility could be ruled out immediately, given that JD's mother remained alive and well.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

Completely baffled, Perry closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. He knew that the method of transmission was barely relevant, but he could feel a thought lumbering forward from the back of his mind. Like a sudden burst of icy water, the realization tumbled over him.

"_I got hit with the business end of one of my Hep B patients' syringes."_

Dr. Cox remembered now. He remembered the intonation of JD's voice, the quiver of his lip, and the flutter of his eyelashes. He had been an intern at the time, expressing his worries to four orange juice-sipping doctors in hospital beds.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

Perry had been the one who told JD to suck it up, shake it off, and move on. Of course doctors get sick sometimes, but it comes with the job. Grab some rubber gloves and grow a pair, he had irked.

And then it struck him.

JD had been tested for Hepatitis only hours after his exposure. And the results had come back negative.

This had to be a mistake.

Dr. Cox gasped audibly and jumped to his feet, his head missing the top bunk by a fraction of an inch. He fumbled desperately with the door handle until it finally released him into the corridor. The laboratory was three doors down on the left.

Upon his arrival, Perry's left foot suddenly slipped out from under him. His muscular frame collapsed onto the unforgiving linoleum floor, and he whacked his cheek on the counter in the process. Perry clamped his eyes shut and cursed loudly for a good minute and a half before the pain faded to a tolerable level.

A wrinkled sheet of paper caught his glistening eye. _How tragically appropriate_, he thought. _Newbie's test results._ He brushed off the sneaker-print and propped himself up on his elbow. _Newbie tested negative. This is all a mistake. False positives turn up all the time. _

But that familiar word printed in green ink shoved him back into reality.

**Hepatitis B………………………………………………………………… **_**Positive**_

_False negatives happen, too._

* * *

Meanwhile, JD's trance was abruptly interrupted by the sound of knuckles on glass. He inhaled deeply and glanced up to discover Elliot's familiar cerulean eyes peeking between the vertical blinds. JD plastered a smile across his face and gestured for her to come in.

Elliot turned the door handle with shaking fingers and stumbled into the room, wearing sky-blue scrubs and a bewildered façade. She clasped her hands behind her back and remained stationary for a moment, in a perfectly silent and sufficiently awkward manner. With tears welling in her eyes, Elliot gnawed her bottom lip.

Luckily, JD knew her well enough to know what to do. He opened his arms and beckoned Elliot closer with a subtle nod of his head.

Elliot sniffled quietly before advancing over to JD's side. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and collapsed into his embrace, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Elliot hadn't wanted to be this girl, hadn't wanted to wear her emotions on her sleeve, hadn't wanted to burst into spontaneous hysterics. So she closed her eyes and trapped her tears.

Running comforting fingers through Elliot's silky blond hair, JD shifted closer to the opposite edge of the bed. He waited a moment before leaning back into his pillows, pulling her impossibly closer.

Elliot silently obliged and lifted her legs onto the mattress, wrapping her entire body around JD. She felt his breath on her scalp, his arm around her waist, his chest rising and falling under her head. Elliot pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck without a second thought.

JD's breath stuck in his throat. Elliot's lips sent electrical currents spindling through his veins, and his muscles stiffened in response.

Slightly confused, Elliot pulled away. She looked down at JD with the same insecure gaze that he fell in love with a year and a half ago. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

_Well, _JD thought. _It's likely that I am infected with a serious illness, my mentor is missing in action indefinitely, and you, my dear, are lying on my IV tube. _But not one of these concerns escaped his lips. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was the woman lying beside him.

"Nothing," he quietly responded, running an index finger down the side of her face. "Nothing at all."

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**Insert review-whoring remark here. It's late, and I'm too tired to come up with anything. Just do me a major-large and click that lovely green button down there.**

**~JD**


	6. Her So Called Support System

**Hello, world! JD here, finally updating My Diagnosis. I know it's short, but I promise I'll make up for it with the next chapter. So without further ado...**

* * *

Mere yards away, Christopher Turk leaned nonchalantly against the curved counter of the Nurses' Station. He cocked his head and gazed adoringly down at Carla. "How's it going, baby?"

Carla tore her eyes away from the glowing monitor before her. After hours of mental preparation, she still wasn't ready for this moment. Breathing deeply, Carla got to her feet and absent-mindedly held out a quivering hand.

With a concerned look in his dark chocolate eyes, Turk obliged and grabbed hold of his girlfriend's hand. "What's going on, baby?" he inquired.

Carla swallowed the lump in her throat and squeezed Turk's fingers. "JD's sick. He's over in ICU on morphine and fluids. Severe abdominal pain and hematemesis." The deadpanned words tumbled out of her mouth ungracefully.

Turk's eyebrows furrowed together, and he reached up to rest his other hand on the side of Carla's face. "Baby, are you okay?" He stroked her cheek with his thumb and clenched his jaw, refusing to lose his cool.

Carla sighed softly. "I'm fine, sweetie. You go see Bambi. He's in 314." She hesitantly let go of his fingers and returned to her chair, which squeaked in quiet protest.

Turk didn't need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and hurried away, throwing a goodbye over his shoulder like an afterthought.

Resting her head in her hands, Carla blinked back hot tears. After almost a year of commitment, she had expected more of a comforting effort from her boyfriend than a half-minute conversation. But she had been wrong. Her half-hearted fears of competition for Turk's love had just morphed into a frightening reality.

Carla's conscience wagged a finger and scolded her for selfishness, but she ignored the reprimand and silenced the nagging voice. She got to her feet once again and walked purposefully towards the elevator;

As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Carla was in desperate need of a shoulder to cry on. And she knew for a fact that the particular shoulder she had in mind was on the second floor.

* * *

In the aforementioned Intensive Care room 314, JD remained clutching a sniffling Elliot Reid in his willowy arms. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply, trying to commit the tropical scent of her shampoo to his memory. He smiled and gripped the flimsy fabric of her scrub top. As long as Elliot was lying beside him, he didn't mind taking on the role of comforter rather than that of the comfortee. Not one bit.

Elliot pressed her ear against his chest and listened to the steady thumping. With each beat of JD's heart, the puddles of tears in her eyes wobbled threateningly. But she somehow summoned the strength to postpone the inevitable saltwater cascade. There was something unimaginably perfect about being held in the arms of John Dorian, even when Elliot's entire world was falling apart.

But with a click of the doorknob, their shared serenity was abruptly interrupted.

* * *

**Any and all reviewers of Chapter 6 will earn the following fabulous prizes:**

**1) A complementary reply and cyberhug,**

**2) Possible cyberbrownies, depending on the fabulosity of the review, and**

**3) Their penname cleverly (?) incorporated into Chapter 7.**

**So go ahead. All I ask is 7 seconds of effort. Pwetty pwease. **

**~JD**


	7. My Freefall

**Okay, friends. Allow me to first say to any previous readers that I am as shocked as you are. Two updates within two weeks? Completely uncharacteristic of myself, but who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?**

**Anyway, as promised, the penname of EVERY SINGLE Chapter 6 reviewer has been incorporated into Chapter 7. It was difficult, but I somehow managed to fit them all in one place or another. Any reference to a reviewer's penname is boldfaced. **

**Many pennames were split up, or I could only figure out how to use part of it. But I did the best I could, and I hope ya'll appreciate it.**

* * *

Elliot sprang clumsily to her feet as Christopher Turk burst through the door. Blinking the tears back, she sniffed and smoothed her scrubs. "Hey, Turk."

With one eyebrow raised suggestively, Turk glanced at JD, then at Elliot, and then at JD again. "Am I… interrupting anything?" he queried, approaching the bed apprehensively.

JD emitted an empty chuckle and propped himself on his pillows. "I've always got time for my Bear," he insisted. Within mere seconds, he had tilted his head to the left and lapsed into a **daydream**.

_Dressed in a paint-spattered lab coat, JD sat cross-legged in an extensive field of **lilies**. A **crimson** toy **space**ship was perched beside him, and a Capuchin **monkey** peeked through the circular porthole. _

_"I'm sorry I have to do this to you, Darryl," JD told the monkey. "But I have to make time for **Eli** now." He gestured to the miniature polar bear cradled in his lap. _

**_Eli_**_ squeaked playfully and licked JD's fingers, the oversized **bell** on his collar tinkling loudly. "Goodbye, Darryl," he growled in a surprisingly deep tone. _

_And with that, JD fed an oily sardine to Eli and watched Darryl disappear into the sky, laughing maniacally. _

"I wonder if he'll make it to the **moon**," JD mumbled. He shook his head vigorously and re-directed his attention. "Where were we again?"

Elliot seized the opportunity without hesitation. "I was about to leave." With a small wave and a close-mouthed smile, she turned on her heel and wordlessly stumbled out of the room.

JD's sunken eyes followed her form out the door, but his exhausted body remained stationary. "So, how's it going, buddy?" he asked Turk. JD's voice sounded hollow and raspy, like the wind rumbling inside a metal trash can.

As the smile faded from Turk's face, he lowered himself onto the left side of JD's bed and cleared his throat. "Don't worry about me. What's going on with you?" he asked.

JD batted at Turk's shoulder and scoffed. "I'm fine, Turk. Just mild hematemesis. And I've had blood drawn already." He shuddered briefly before continuing. "Dr. Cox is at the lab right now, getting the results back."

Turk blew out a breath in astonishment. "That jackass is actually going out of his way to help you?"

For a moment, JD's eyes drifted far away. He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

"No wise-cracks? No girls' names?" Turk was beginning to question his view of the human race.

Chortling softly, JD bowed his head in defeat. "Okay, he may have called me **Becki**. Or maybe it was **Amanda**," he admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."

Turk nodded silently, scraping his sneakers together. "Hematemesis isn't a great sign." He hadn't meant for it to come out as a whisper. A few moments passed before Turk allowed himself to closely examine the man laying beside him.

JD's lips were chapped and split. His cheeks were sallow and porous, no longer holding on to their gleeful blush. And the childish sparkle had vacated JD's eyes, leaving two ominous gray pools behind.

Turk took a deep breath. "This is really starting to freak me out," he admitted softly, forcefully guiding his focus to the linoleum floor.

JD extended a hand, quivering from fatigue, and placed it on Turk's shoulder. They sat there for a long moment, listening to one another's breathing. "Dude, have I ever told you that you're my best friend?" JD inquired, removing his hand to gesticulate. The characteristic hint of **enthusiasm** had returned to his voice, and in turn, it re-energized Turk like a rousing **Sousa** march.

"Only **one-thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-six **times," Turk reported exaggeratedly. "But it's still good to hear." He gave JD's arm a good-natured pat.

Without warning, JD winced and shied away from the physical contact. "Do me a favor, and **don't touch** that arm," he requested.

Turk was relieved to detect no trace of venom or sarcasm in his friend's tone. He waited patiently as JD tugged up his sleeve to reveal a frayed patch of gauze, surrounded by several purple puncture wounds. "Ouch," Turk exclaimed sympathetically, hissing through his teeth. "Which dumbass intern did that to you?"

JD gingerly pulled the sleeve back over his forearm and shrugged. "I don't even remember his name. That day sort of remains a blur." Apart from those agonizing minutes in Dr. Kim's exam room, he recalled only one event clearly: his hug. But JD had a feeling that Turk would never fully understand the importance of Dr. Cox's role as his mentor, so he didn't elaborate.

With a heavy sigh, Turk got to his feet. Thousands of conflicting thoughts ricocheted around his skull, and he only managed to squeeze out one coherent question: "JD, are you okay?" It was essentially identical to an earlier inquiry, but he was no longer talking about physical well-being.

JD clasped his hands together in his lap. With a re-assuring smile plastered across his face, he cleared his throat softly and gazed up at Turk. "I will be."

Seemingly satisfied, Turk began the short journey through the doorway. But something inside him, whether it was his conscience or his kidney, was nagging him to turn around. Chris Turk would undoubtedly return to Room 314 sometime soon, but he felt a desperate need for temporary closure. "Hey, buddy. Remind me again," Turk requested, gripping the plastic rail at the foot of JD's bed. "Where do we meet up in heaven?"

Sensing the morbid undertone in his best friend's voice, JD's chest seized up for a moment. Mortality, specifically his own, was at the bottom of his list of desirable conversation topics at this moment in particular. But he had to face it sometime, and he realized then that he may as well have processed this insight with Turk at his side. "The milkshake pool on the lesbian cloud, player," he responded quietly.

Turk smiled and patted JD's shin. He pondered aloud, "I wonder if there are any **black angels** at the pool." Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he twisted the door handle behind his back and walked through the threshold backwards. "I'll see you there," Turk promised, then disappeared into the sea of hospital staff.

Those **four** words wrapped around JD protectively like a safety **net**. All he had to do for now was shut his eyes, pull his knees to his chest, and savor the feeling of being caught in freefall.

Because hitting the ground was inevitable. But JD wanted to delay the impact for as long as possible.

* * *

**So it was almost twice as long as Chapter Six. I hope you're all happy. Really.**

**Now, I'm totally wiped out from all that penname-incorporation, so no such reward shall be offered up pertaining to Chapter 7.**

**HOWEVER...**

**The first eight reviewers will have one of the remaining chapters dedicated to them, on one condition:**

**A review will only be considered if it offers constructive criticism in some way, shape, or form.**

**After the first eight, any and all reviews will still receive complementary cyberbrownies, as well as a shout-out in my Chapter 8 Author's Note. And, of course, my undying gratitude for your feedback.**

**Okay, I'm done whoring now. So, by all means, click that little speech bubble like there's no tomorrow!**

**~JD**


	8. Their Dramatic Exit

**Before you continue, allow me to issue a couple of warnings.**

**1) The following chapter is a little short. Under 1,000 words. So if that isn't enough to satisfy you, please don't seek me out and strangle me with an extension cord. **

**2) There are but two words of dialogue. Please see Number 1.**

**3) Prepare yourself for mushy, gushy, make-you-want-to-drown-yourself-in-pudding piles of fluffiness. (Wow. That made very little sense. I suppose my brain is processing only gibberish today. Geeble kurk nibby zook.)**

**Translation: Enough with my useless babble.**

* * *

When Carla barreled into the third floor on-call room, her feet froze solidly in place. She would have bet her life's savings that the scene unfolding before her couldn't possibly happen.

Dr. Perry Cox was slumped on the bottom bunk, cradling his head in his hands. His auburn curls were twisted painfully between his fingers, and glistening tears dripped rapidly down his face. Perry sniffed audibly, wiped his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand, and glanced wordlessly up at Carla.

An aching wave of tears swelled in the center of Carla's chest. She covered her mouth with her hand and blinked in disbelief, trying to maintain composure. After a few moments of deafening silence, her hand dropped to her side and she took three purposeful steps toward Perry.

The impenetrable Dr. Cox tilted his head back to watch her with bloodshot cobalt eyes. He ran a hand over his face and softly cleared his throat. "Hey," he whispered gruffly.

Carla kneeled in front of him on the cold linoleum floor, never breaking eye contact. She placed a hand on each of his knees. "Hey."

Without a second thought, Dr. Cox leaned over and placed his index finger under Carla's chin, tilting her face up towards his own. With every millimeter between their lips that disappeared, he became more positive that she would pull away. But she didn't. And their mouths met gracefully and harmoniously.

Carla's glistening brown eyes closed on contact, and she extended a quivering hand to rest on the side of Perry's face. This kiss was everything that Turk lacked. This kiss was comfort, music, poetry without words. This kiss was perfect. More perfect than she could have imagined.

Dr. Cox placed a hand on either side of Carla's chest and pulled her closer. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he walked into that tiny dump of a pizza parlor. Even after he met Jordan, even after Jack was born, he never could quench that ember that glowed only for Carla.

The moments following were blissfully silent. There were no smacking sounds, no gnashing of teeth, no moans of pleasure. Their kiss continued, chaste and tender, until Carla reluctantly broke away.

She opened her mouth and narrowed her glistening eyes, as if she were about to scold him.

Perry's eyelids closed to stem the flow of tears. His Adam's apple bobbed visibly in his throat, and Carla could have sworn she heard the slightest of whimpers.

There was no way she could leave him like this. Not Carla Espinosa, Universal Den-Mother.

She watched Perry's weathered hand close around her tiny fingers, gave him permission with a gentle squeeze.

He wiped his cheeks with his free hand and leaned in once more, waiting for a breathless moment before their mouths met. Closing his eyes once more, Perry gripped her waist. Their mouths opened in unison.

Carla gasped silently. Her brain screamed angrily in her ears: _What the hell are you doing? What about Turk? How could you do this to him? _But then Perry's hand crept to her upper arm and guided her into his lap, and Carla's heart didn't even have to answer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his, deepening the kiss to the point of no return.

Responding eagerly, Perry let go of her fingers and placed a strong hand on either side of Carla's face. He hated pity more than anything else in the world, but something told him that this was approaching something beyond the purpose of comfort.

He pulled away, panting softly, and peered deep into Carla's eyes. The desperately forlorn look in his eyes conveyed his unspoken message.

Carla nodded somberly and got to her feet, watching Perry carefully as he followed suite. Their hands didn't part ways until they reached the hallway, then rejoined in the elevator. Not out of romantic notions, just out of mutual need for physical contact, the reassuring feeling of their hands held steadfastly in one another's.

The lobby was unusually vacant at two o'clock in the morning. Even the admitting nurse had abandoned her post for a coffee break. The phone was persistently silent, and not a soul had stepped through the sliding glass doors in over an hour.

Which was just as well. Because no one was there to see the glistening tears in Perry's eyes. No one was there to see Carla's tangled curls and her tear-stained scrubs.

But most importantly, no one was there to see the long-term girlfriend of Dr. Christopher Turk walk solemnly out of the hospital holding the hand of Dr. Percival Cox.

* * *

**Beek quirkle vrumbling. Snock yoodle bunging, chun, ix iffergibble shroof.**

**Translation: Please review. You shall receive cyberhugs, cookies, and my undying love and gratitude.**

**Not to be desperate or anything.**


	9. Their Messengers

**Long time, no see, my fabulous readers. It's been a long time since May 22, eh?**

**Anyway, thought I'd take this moment to thank y'all for reading, favoriting, and alerting. **

**If there's anyone out there who's looking for a dedication, I'm sorry to say that I've had some technical difficulties, and I lost track of who I'm supposed to be dedicating these to.**

**So let's do this.**

**This chapter is dedicated to everyone who reads it. There.**

**Now enough of my babble. Chapter 9.**

* * *

Dr. Elliot Reid gnawed nervously on her lower lip, realizing that she'd forgotten lip gloss this morning. Her mind was consumed not only with JD's condition, but also with Louisa Dalton, her teenaged patient complaining of nausea and abdominal pain.

It seemed to Elliot that she was only right when she didn't want to be. She had just picked up Louisa's test results, and her suspicions were confirmed: Louisa was pregnant. This might not have been such a huge deal if Louisa weren't only sixteen years old, and if her parents weren't so fiercely conservative.

Elliot blew her bangs from her forehead and gave her clipboard one last tap before slowly opening the door to Louisa's room. "Hey there," she greeted, her voice shaky and forced.

The heavyset, curly-haired girl in the bed closed her book and set it carefully on the nightstand. _The Bible,_ Elliot thought, noticing the worn black leather binding and it's embossed gold cross. _What are this girl's parents doing to her?_

"Hi, Dr. Reid." Louisa grinned. "This is my mom and dad." She gestured in the general direction of the two stiff, unsmiling people huddled in the corner of the room. If it weren't for the woman's breasts and her slightly softer jaw-line, they could have been clones of each other. Their clothes were neutral and pressed, their hair unembellished, their eyes surprisingly accusing.

Elliot took a cautious step toward them and extended a hand. "Elliot Reid. I've been, um, working on your daughter's case." _This isn't Law & Order, Elliot. Rephrase! _"I mean, I'm working on her diagnosis." _Salvaged it. Now if no one shakes your hand in the next three seconds, fake a hair-smooth and move on._

Fortunately, Mr. Dalton took Elliot's hand and pumped firmly up and down before releasing her. "Kevin Dalton." He nodded in his wife's direction, who bent her head in acknowledgement. "My wife, Hannah." His voice was stern, but he was at least being courteous.

Elliot gave the pair of them a nervous smile and flipped her clipboard open, blowing her bangs from her forehead again. She had no need to refer to the results, but she found herself in desperate need of something to hide behind. "I got your results back, Louisa, and I have some, um, news for you." She glanced cautiously over her clipboard. "Louisa, you have the choice, if you, uh, want to be alone. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all that," Elliot explained, bringing a finger to her teeth.

Mr. Dalton took a step forward. "Louisa's sixteen years old," he stated, oblivious to the fact that Elliot had this information right on the chart in her hand. "We're responsible for her. Doesn't that override confidentiality?"

Removing her fingernail from her mouth, Elliot slumped visibly. "Not in this case." _Please let that be enough for them_, she thought.

Before either of her parents could speak, Louisa held up her hands. "If it's okay," she started nervously, "I'd really prefer to talk to Doctor Reid first. Alone." Her hands moved to her lap, clenching into white-knuckled fists, as if preparing to be wrapped up for a boxing match.

Mrs. Dalton opened her mouth to speak, but her husband hushed her. "That's fine, Louisa," he assured her, though his tone indicated otherwise. "We'll go get some tea." He patted her shin beneath the blankets and hooked his arm through Mrs. Dalton's elbow, leading her past Elliot and through the threshold.

Louisa waved, then turned her attention to Elliot. "Sorry about that," she murmured, but Elliot knew from experience that she probably meant, "Sorry about them."

Elliot nodded in acknowledgement, closed her clipboard, and averted her eyes. "You're pregnant, Louisa." _What the frick were you thinking? Way too soon, way too direct! Couldn't you have reassured her first? Prepared her a little? You know, before you dropped a ton of frickin' bricks on the poor girl? _Elliot paused in her self-deprecating thoughts for a moment and glanced up.

Shaking ever-so-slightly, Louisa covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. "No," was all she said.

Elliot could feel a chasm ripping her chest apart. "Louisa, because of-"

"I've been with Tom for three years now," Louisa whispered, clasping her hands together in her lap. "My parents have no idea." She shook her head slowly, rhythmically, like a mother rocking a crying baby. "We were so careful."

_God, I wish JD was here right now,_ Elliot thought, walking over to Louisa's side. She pulled her clipboard against her chest. "Because of doctor-patient confidentiality, you could abort the… embryo… and I wouldn't be legally obligated to tell your parents." _Almost said "baby". Gotta be careful._

Louisa stared straight ahead of her with determined, tearful green eyes. "I can't," she said firmly. She didn't offer any further explanation, but her tone was unwavering. That was that.

"So what are you going to do?" _Very professional, Elliot. Now go buy a copy of Seventeen with your leftover lunch money and refer to the "How To Deal When You're Like, Totally Pregnant" column. _But this time, she didn't bother to rephrase.

Redirecting her gaze to her lap, Louisa habitually turned the thin silver band on her index finger. _Purity ring, _Elliot thought. "I have no idea." Her tone was no longer strong and self-assured.

Elliot remained silent for a moment, tapping the pads of her fingers noiselessly against her clipboard. "I'm not going to tell your parents anything, Louisa. That's up to you." _You already said that. _"But you can always page me." She paused for a beat. "If you need me."

Nodding solemnly, Louisa blinked the tears from her eyes. "I will."

And without another word, Elliot hooked the clipboard over the foot of Louisa's bed and stepped unceremoniously through the doorway, leaving her patient alone in every way but one.

* * *

"Nineteen seventy-five."

A few doors down the hallway, JD woke with a start. His mind's immediate response was, _"Hey, that's the year I was born." _But after a moment of rationalization, he realized that nineteen seventy-five could easily be the price of something or the last four digits of a phone number. JD opened his eyes and immediately, instinctively flinched.

The Janitor stood in the doorway, one hand clutching a manila file-folder, the other pulled close to his face. JD recognized the tiny round object between his fingers as a penny, watching the fluorescent light glint off its copper-colored surface.

JD pulled his blanket closer to him, like a frightened child reacting to a thunderclap. "What are you doing here?" he inquired, realizing his voice was thick with sleep and barely audible. He cleared his throat and repeated himself.

The Janitor directed his attention to JD. He slipped the penny into his breast pocket and took a couple of strides forward. "I found this in the lab," he reported solemnly, holding the folder out in front of him.

Sitting up, JD peered at the label. He gasped inwardly when he spotted his own name printed on the tab. "But Dr. Cox…" His voice trailed off. The older man had abandoned him after all.

"I already know," The Janitor said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He could have explained how he had found the folder's contents splayed across the floor, how he deciphered the sheet of test results, and how he was now fully, though not explicitly, aware of JD's ailment. But he didn't feel that elaboration was necessary.

JD remained stationary for a moment, paralyzed by indecision. He was frightened out of his mind. On the other hand, no matter who the messenger was, the news would still be the same. With a quivering hand, he reached out and took the folder.

The Janitor released it into JD's grasp, glad to have purged the information. He watched wordlessly as JD slowly and delicately opened the folder in his lap, as if he were dissecting a nuclear bomb.

**Hepatitis B**_**… Positive.**_

JD's mouth cracked open, his eyes widening.

**Hepatitis B… **_**Positive.**_

It all made sense now. The fever, the weight loss, the hematemesis. Everything snapped together in his brain.

**Hepatitis B… **_**Positive.**_

It had been the needle from his patient, over 4 months ago. False negative on the test results.

**Hepatitis B... _Positive._**

JD closed the folder with a bit more force than he had opened it with. He wanted to exorcise it from his lap, but with the rolling nightstand on the other side of the room, his only alternatives would be throwing it to the floor or handing it back to the Janitor. Neither really seemed appropriate.

All but one of the Janitor's instincts told him to seize the opportunity and smack JD's forehead with something. His eyes darted around the room, halting on the IV rack, the folder in JD's lap, and then JD's crumpled face. His other instinct kicked in then: The instinct to help out another human being, which so rarely appeared. The Janitor removed the file-folder and turned around, placing it on the corner of the rolling nightstand.

JD looked up, slowly awaking from his daze. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The Janitor only nodded, examining the stark contrast between his black, scuffed work-boots and the immaculate white linoleum of the floor. Vaguely uncomfortable silence surrounded them for a few beats.

"I was born in 1975," JD told him, realizing only now that the Janitor had been reading the date on the penny aloud.

His hand drifting up to pat his breast pocket, the Janitor nodded in understanding. He let a small smile spread across his stubble. "Better get goin', Scooter," he said abruptly, turning slightly on his heel.

JD tried his best to mirror the Janitor's grin, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed. "Sure…" His voice trailed off once again, as if his vocal cords were unsatisfied with the lack of a name to produce.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Janitor took inhaled silently. "It's Glenn."

JD met his eyes. "Glenn," he echoed in disbelief.

"Yup." The Janitor was about to resume his journey into the corridor when he saw the abnormal tinge in the young doctor's eyes. He turned to face JD, bending slightly at the waist, peering unsettlingly at his face. "Hey," the Janitor began, his voice unsure. "Are your eyes _supposed _to be turning yellow like that?"

At this, JD had to take a moment to collect himself. "Yellow?"

The Janitor nodded. "Undeniably."

_Yellow means jaundice. Jaundice means liver failure. Liver failure means…_

JD clenched his jaw, blinking back the involuntary tears. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to dwell on it, didn't even want to acknowledge it: Liver failure meant one more day.

_One more day to speak, one more day to eat._

_One more day of Elliot. One more day of Turk and Carla._

_One more day without Dr. Cox._

_One more day in this bed._

And despite his greatest efforts, a single tear escaped JD's right eye and slipped down his cheek.

_One more day to live._

**

* * *

**

Pretty bleak, eh?

**I promise a cyberhug and a decadent virtual cookie, fresh out of my virtual oven, to cheer you up.**

**In return for a review, of course.**

**Heh heh heh.**

**~JD**


	10. Her Decision

The Janitor shuffled his feet, waiting for Scooter to snap out of his trance. He was no doctor, but he deduced that the yellowing of JD's eyes was not a good sign. For lack of anything else to do, he extracted the penny from his breast pocket and rolled it between his fingers.

"Do me a favor?" JD inquired, breaking the silence abruptly. He swiped at the end of his nose. "My cell is over there." He pointed at the rolling nightstand.

The Janitor nodded. He spotted the chunky silver device and grabbed it, then placed it gingerly in JD's outstretched hand. Normally, he'd toss it in the doctor's general direction and hope it left a visible bruise. But there was something about that hospital bed that made JD look even more vulnerable and defenseless than ever. And not in a good way, either.

"Thanks." JD pressed two glowing buttons and then lifted the phone to his left ear, a distant look in his jaundiced eyes.

"Hello?" Chris Turk answered, separating the word into two distinct syllables.

"It's JD." There wasn't time for pleasantries anymore.

Beat. "Hey, buddy. What's up?"

JD's mind raced for a moment. He really should have prepared before he dialed; he had no idea how to break the news to Turk. In fact, now that he was on the line, JD wished he hadn't called at all.

"You there?" Turk faltered.

JD inhaled deeply. "I'm in hepatic failure, Turk." He fingered the itchy hospital blanket and willed the tears from his eyes.

After several moments of stunned silence, Turk cleared his throat and tried to speak. Nothing came out. He didn't have multitudes of medical knowledge, but he knew enough. JD was terminal. He probably had a day or so left, depending on how long it took him to call.

"I contracted Hepatitis B from a patient a while back," JD explained, steeling himself. "The symptoms took a while to kick in, but that's normal." There was no turning back now. "There's no way I'm getting a transplant with a chronic condition." He would let Turk figure out the rest.

Fortunately, at this moment, the surgeon found his voice. "I'll be right there." He was about to press the END button when it dawned on him: Carla had the car at the hospital. Turk lifted the phone back to his ear. "Wait, JD! You still there?"

JD still had the phone pressed to his ear. "Yeah."

"Can you ask Carla to come pick me up? I'd call a cab, but I spent-"

"Carla's not here," JD cut him off unceremoniously. He gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. "I mean, I haven't seen her in a while. And you know Carla."

Turk nodded arbitrarily, understanding his implication; it wasn't like the Den Mother to be elsewhere in the building while one of her cubs was in danger. "Well, I haven't seen her either." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll call her. And if she can't, I'll get Elliot to come pick me up."

A half-formed smile lighted on JD's lips. "Thanks, buddy." He released the blanket from his grasp. "I'll see you when you get here." His tone sounded lukewarm at the most, but it was the best he could muster.

"Fair enough," Turk deadpanned, then hung up the phone.

* * *

In an apartment several blocks away, Carla Espinosa rolled over in bed. She rubbed at her eyes and then stretched out an arm until her fingers met cool, soft flesh. _Turk always wears t-shirts to bed_, she thought. _Where am I? Who is this?_

Perry's back muscles rippled at the touch. He took a shuddery yawn and rolled over onto his back, catching Carla's hand in his own. His eyes remained closed, his mouth unsmiling. "'Mornin'," he drawled.

Carla's breath caught in her throat. Abruptly, she slipped from beneath the sheets, exposing her bare form to the midmorning sunlight. She tugged her hand from Perry's grip and practically leaped out of bed. "C'mon, up. We gotta go to the hospital." Carla plucked her phone from the nightstand, studying the back-lit rectangular display on the front. Three missed calls, which she decided to deal with later; she had bigger fish to fry.

Perry shifted onto his side, propping his head full of tangled curls on his fist.

Unaware that he was watching intently, Carla scanned the floor until she spotted her bra and panties in a lacey heap. She yanked them on unceremoniously, then glanced over at Perry. Her hand was already at her hip, her mouth open to reprimand, when his face came into focus.

Perry's steely blue eyes were rimmed in red, underscored with violet bags. His freckles stood out starkly from his pale skin. His hair was flat and unkept, and his mouth was twisted in a troubled frown.

Carla pulled the previous day's lavender scrubs on, now fully conscious of her audience. She padded over to the other side of the bed, and Perry rolled onto his back, his eyes never leaving her. Wordlessly, Carla bent over him, studying his desolate half-closed eyes. "Sweetie," she whispered.

He blinked, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard her use this epithet before, but it had so much more meaning today. Today, it meant _it's not your fault. _It meant _I'm sorry. _It meant _I'd do anything to take away your pain, even if it meant taking it upon myself. _

With a slightly tremulous hand, Carla tenderly stroked his hair. "I have to go," she told him, but made no immediate physical effort to live up to her words. She had never experienced such a strong desire to split herself in two. At this moment, gun to her head, she couldn't have decided who needed her more; the doctor lying in bed at the hospital, or the doctor lying in bed beside her.

Perry felt himself nod. He closed his eyes and waited for the gentle pressure of her lips on his cheek, then the slight elevation of the mattress in response to her departure.

Carla tugged on her sneakers. She searched the floor for her purse, only to remember that she'd left it at the hospital along with the car. All she had was her cell phone, which she plucked out of her pants' pocket, realizing now that she'd have to call a cab. "You call me if you need anything," she told him. It wasn't so much an offer as it was a command.

At the sound of her voice, Perry opened his eyes. "Will do."

Carla gave him one last long, concerned look, then turned on her heel before she could change her mind.

Perry used her pillow to muffle the click of the deadbolt, inhaling the quickly-departing smell of her perfume.


End file.
